


a goblin on seth rollins' couch

by hupsoonheng



Series: it's a goddamn shield reunion [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Casual Sex, Hate Sex, Hook-Up, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hupsoonheng/pseuds/hupsoonheng
Summary: i got commissioned to write another wwe fic so here it ispost aug 7 raw; seth has started hooking up with dean and refuses to examine this very bad life choice. sheamus and cesaro, happily married husbands, try to counsel him otherwise. it's not going to work





	a goblin on seth rollins' couch

There's cheeto dust on the couch. 

Whether that's an improvement or not depends on how it got there. If Dean actually tried to wipe the dust off his hands, that's progress from slurping it off his fingers like a raccoon, which in turn was progress from just leaving it on his hands to curse Seth's home in traces. On the other hand, it's totally believable that Dean backslid into just not giving a shit. 

The toilet flushes, and Dean ambles into the living room with his zipper down, although at least he knows how the top button on his jeans works. Seth glances at Dean's hands and praise be, they're damp. No cheeto curse tonight. 

"Let's get one thing straight," Dean says as he flops right onto the orange stain he left on Seth's couch cushion. "I'm not here because I want to be." 

"Right." Seth picks up the remote, turns on the TV. A nice big 4k mounted on the wall, because he deserves nice things. He has a house, too, but the apartment being a way station of sorts doesn't mean he should lose out on creature comforts. "Because you'd rather be at the motel, watching Say Yes to the Dress on a fatback with bunny ears." 

"Well, it doesn't have bunny ears, so how's it feel to be wrong, Rollins?" 

Seth chooses not to answer that one. Maybe when they were easier with each other, he could have been a little more convivial about it, could have made big fun of Dean for actually watching garbage TV like Say Yes to the Dress. (Not that either of them work for a particularly edifying show, but you know.) Maybe with Roman around to soak up the weirdness that cropped up between him and Dean sometimes—but Roman doesn't even talk to them anymore. It's a moot point. 

"I bet," Dean says, mouth suddenly full of food, "that you watch our old matches from 2013 and jerk off." Did he raid the pantry again? When? Those are the nice kettle chips Seth had stashed for himself. He supposes that's the price of Dean's presence. "Pathetic, man." 

"Maybe I do." He opens up the YouTube app on the TV, but he doesn't navigate anywhere past the home page. He supposes his recents and recommendeds are damning enough. 

"Jesus, Seth, I was kidding." Dean stuffs more chips into his face without offering Seth any. "Best Shield matches? Shield wins tag belts?" 

"You're the one who talked about me jerking it. You made it weird, not me." 

"Why'd you turn on the TV, anyway? You gonna show me how good it used to be? Make me like you again?" 

Dean's always been good at making Seth feel self conscious. That's that weirdness Roman always helped diffuse. 

"I don't know, Dean, you're the one who accepted the invitation, so why don't you tell me?" Seth gestures with the remote as he turns to look at Dean. 

"I came for the chips." Dean holds up one such chip, and uses it to point at Seth. "I already told you I'm not gonna trust you again." 

Seth is quiet as he puts the remote back down on the coffee table. "I don't know what you want from me." 

"Chips. I already told you." Dean crunches into another one, the crumbs scattering down the front of his tank top. At least he doesn't wear his merch outside of work. 

"I know it's never gonna be like it was," Seth says, looking down at the loose knot his fists make together. "I mean, hell, we don't even get to talk to Roman anymore." 

"He's fine without you, too," Dean interjects. Not that Seth made a great reunion with Roman a while ago, telling him he was gonna _own him in the ring_. 

"I'll—I'll say it again if I have to." Seth swallows around the knot of pride in his throat. "I'm sorry for what I did. If I could do it over, I absolutely would." 

"Because you might have your knee back, I'm guessing." 

"Goddammit, Dean, can you let me be sincere for one second?" Seth twists on the couch completely, and snatches the bag of chips out of Dean's hands. "And I was saving these, for the record!" 

"I can leave, if you don't want me around," Dean says, leaning forward to push off the couch, but Seth puts both hands on his shoulders, keeps him in place. 

"Don't be so touchy," Seth says, breathy with frustration. 

"If I remember—and I'm pretty sure I do," Dean says, pushing off one of Seth's hands, "it was you who was always the touchy one." 

"Well that doesn't sound right." Seth replaces his hand, squeezing both shoulders. He doesn't know what he thinks he's doing, exactly. "You're the one who's been in a stupid long feud with the Miz." 

"The other kind of touchy, then, like right now." Dean eyes the hand that came back, but this time he doesn't do anything about it. "You were always the one, you know..." 

"Always the one what? Since you remember everything." Seth remembers plenty. 

"Starting shit." 

"Don't recall." 

Dean groans. "Jesus, Seth, stop flirting, will you? Just say something if you want it." With that, he throws both of Seth's hands off, and shoves at Seth's shoulders to throw him down along the couch. Seth hits his head on the arm of it, just enough to throb a little, but it's overridden by everything else that's happening. 

It's the second time they've hooked up since Seth started their so-called reunion tour, and everything about it is weird. Dean still treats him like a pariah outside of these moments, and talks a big game about not trusting him, but touching dicks doesn't really require trust. 

Dean is rough about it, but that's not far off from the way things used to be. He pushes Seth's knees apart like he's swatting flies, pulls open his jeans like tearing open a cardboard box. He makes fun of Seth's pizza-printed underwear, and maybe Seth wore them just to hear that mockery. 

He feels like a teenager with Dean, getting crushed by the other guy's body on a couch that still has crumbs on it. Dean won't kiss him, but he does leave a vicious hickey, right where a T-shirt will only barely cover it. It hurts, and in it Seth thinks he feels Dean's anger over getting publicly stood up for the Shield fist, but it's also exhilarating, makes Seth groan inside his closed mouth. 

"What are you, trying to not wake your mom? I'm not doing this so you can keep fucking quiet," Dean mutters against the skin of Seth's neck. "Appreciate my work." 

"It's not art," Seth murmurs back, but Dean bites his earlobe and this time he does gasp out loud. 

Seth isn't wrong, though. There's nothing artful about the way Dean treats orgasms. Dean's a spit-in-the-palm kind of guy, rough sticky hand around Seth's dick bringing him right up to the brink. He stops short, though, and when Seth hears him laughing he knows it's not about edging so much as it is just messing with Seth. 

He likes edging, actually, but that's not the point, so later on when he's sucking Dean's cock, he makes sure to scrape his teeth across the bottom of it. Just to make sure things are even. 

After sex—or _fucking around_ which is probably a more accurate term—Dean drinks the rest of Seth's beer, sends a couple texts, then snatches the bag of chips on his way out. Seth sighs as he locks the door, then turns on another Best Shield Moments video on YouTube and opens a beer and a second bag of chips. 

"I'm telling ye," Sheamus says, when Seth goes to visit the next day. "It's what the young folk like to call 'fuckboy behavior.'" 

"We went out to dinner the other night," Seth says, swirling the mimosa in its glass. His apartment is cozy, but Sheamus and Cesaro's place is airy, with a sizable balcony and a great view. 

"Aye, at Applebee's. Who picked up the check?" 

Seth just takes a drink of his mimosa, because Dean stuck him with the bill after he pretended to go to the bathroom and never came back. 

"I've got the croquettes out of the oven, but you have to tell me if you notice a difference in the recipe," Cesaro says as he comes out onto the balcony, holding a tray of miniature salmon croquettes on thin crackers. "I'm not telling you what I changed." 

"It'll be lovely either way, darlin'," Sheamus says as he reaches for one. 

"That's not helpful," Cesaro says, but bends down to get a peck from his husband. 

"I don't know that I wanna be lectured by the guy who got married a few months after forming a tag team," Seth says with a frown as he plucks a croquette bite off the tray. He pops it into his mouth, and the frown disappears. "Shit, Cesaro, these are delicious." 

"Of course they are," Cesaro sniffs, but he looks pleased with the praise. 

"Don't judge us. We worked out, didn't we?" Sheamus says, before eating the croquette in a single go. "You put in paprika, didn't you?" he says to Cesaro. "They're bloody beautiful." 

"It was an experiment," Cesaro says, before leaving the tray on the little wicker table between Seth and Sheamus and swishing back into the apartment. Their rescue greyhound named Atlas glances out onto the balcony, but ultimately chooses to stay in the kitchen with Cesaro. 

"Yer best to leave that dirt ball alone, is my main point," Sheamus says, crossing his legs. "Find someone who knows how to wash up properly and won't eat ye out of house and home." 

"He knows how to wash his hands," Seth points out, and Sheamus arches both brows. 

"A low bar, boyo. Have another croquette and forget about him." 

Seth sighs, and takes another croquette. But he glances at his phone to see a text from Dean—whose contact name is just the letter D with a poop emoji on either side—and he know he's not forgetting about Dean anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> all i can say is thank god for kayfabe


End file.
